When I first crashed up on Blackthorn, I thought of the place as my adversary. It was a prison, keeping me there. But, that changed. Braun was right that day when he said it was the perfect place to get away and to start over. One night at Vlad’s house turned into two. And that turned into a week, until eventually, Holly and I both knew we weren’t ever going back to our old lives.
And really, what did we even have in those lives that we needed to get back to?
So, we stayed. I ended up buying the piece of land that the cabin stood on from Vlad, and now, it’s ours. It’s a humble little spot, but we’re fixing it up slowly but surely. And damn is the view to die for.
We’ve got new windows and the insulation is up now. And in the spring, Braun’s going to help me tackle a new roof. It ain’t much, but for now, it’s all we need. A roof, four walls, a great fireplace, and a brand new king-sized bed.
…We still fuck each other’s brains out on the floor by the fireplace all the time, though.
There’s a community up here on Blackthorn, and slowly, we’re becoming a part of that community. They stick together, and they protected what’s theirs. And they don’t need much, because they’ve got each other.
…Kind of like Holly and me.
Tony and the rest of the goons he brought that day ended up in jail. Turns out, Angelo had stuck a tracker on my truck, so when I didn’t deliver, they did actually know exactly where to look. Axe and Vlad’s connections with the local police kept Holly and me out of the whole thing though, and Tony and the other goons went down hard.
Now, was I worried about Angelo? Was I worried about having stolen something from the mob and stuck a bunch of them in jail?
…Nope. In another circumstance, yeah, maybe. I’m a tough guy, but I’m not stupid. And I know fucking with the mob is a great way to end up dead.
But like I said, I wasn’t worried in this circumstance. See, I had insurance.
I never worked blind when I was smuggling. And I was always aware of who I was running jobs for, what I was bringing, and who I was bringing it to. This time, I’d hadn’t known the what — the what being Holly. But I did know the who.
Mr. Black.
It was a bullshit name, I knew, but then, I did have his fucking address. And normally, I’d have stayed out of it. But this wasn’t any job, and this time, they’d tried to hurt the girl I loved.
They’d tried to take what was mine.
The day after Christmas, I used some old contacts of mine to figure out who this asshole who liked buying scared girls as sexual objects was. And it turned out, the huge estate on the other side of Blackthorn Mountain owned by “Mr. Black” was actually owned by Richard Tonelli.
…As in, U.S. Senator, Richard Tonelli.
It was such a cliché it almost hurt. The guy was this big bastion of “family first” and “being tough on crime.” And here he was buying a girl from the mob to try and screw against her will. And I had proof.
I could have brought him down, easily. I could have dragged his ass through the mud until every paper in the world knew what a scumbag he was.
But, instead, I used the leverage I had over him. And besides, as much fun as it would have been to watch him cry on the news, it was way more fun to have a US Senator in your back pocket. Oh, and dear Richard was willing to do anything I goddamn asked him to do, so long as I kept his dirty business and involvement with the mob under wraps.
I’m using him for a couple of things. The first one is, I’ve gotten him to declare a ton of land around Blackthorn as state protected forest site. And that means no developments. No highways years from now being built through this incredible community of outlaws and free spirits. The people around here like their privacy, and they’ve been hugely appreciative of me making sure that got done.
The second thing is, I made Senator Tonelli set up a fund for at-risk girls and victims of sex trafficking. And wouldn’t you know, Richard himself turned out to be their first and biggest donor.
Douchebag.
But thirdly, owning Richard Tonelli was good for another thing: protection. Angelo wasn’t going to touch us, or try anything at all to come after us. Not when he still owed Richard, and not when I had the good Senator permanently and firmly by the balls. And that’s not a “hunch,” that’s fact. Angelo and I have talked. I gave him the money for the job back, and we agreed to never see each other ever again. I don’t go to his city, and he stays the fuck away from my mountain.